


Nightcall

by effystonem



Category: August: Osage County (2013)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Falling In Love, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effystonem/pseuds/effystonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy never meant to fall in love with her cousin, but then again, who ever really means to fall in love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on the song 'Nightcall' by Kavinsky and Lovefoxx.

Ivy is home. Finally, _finally_ back in her townhouse, after five days in the goddamned awful Osage County hospital. Her cousin Charles drives her home after she's been released, makes sure she's settled, and then promised to return in an hour. She lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling, content and just thrilled to be wrapped in her own comforter and have her head on her own pillows. She is in plaid pyjama pants and a t-shirt, and the TV is droning with some dumb show on The Learning Channel in the background. She's brushed her hair, brushed her teeth, and even struggled to shave the bottom of her legs. That day Ivy has done more walking than she has since the surgery and she's absolutely exhausted. The only thing that could make this feel better was a warm presence in the bed beside her, long fingers resting on her own or idly woven through her hair. It's absolute heaven, being home, after time in the hospital. Ivy had always hated the hospital, likely because of going there so many times with her mother, and she'd always found it too harsh. White, cold, sterile, unfeeling. The farthest thing from comfortable.

True to his word, Charles shows up at the townhouse later that evening, letting himself in with the key Ivy lent him and whistling on his way in. He's promised to help take care of her until she's fully recovered, and he swears he won't tell anyone. She trusts him. Charles would never intentionally hurt Ivy, or anyone, really, not even Mattie Fae, although Ivy's aunt couldn't seem to understand that. Charles packed a light bag to keep him going for a while and set up some sheets and pillows on the couch, where he'll become a permanent entity over the next six to eight weeks. Secretly, Ivy hopes she'll take _ages_ to recover.

Charles knocks softly on her bedroom door and she calls out to him faintly, eyes on the door as it opened, revealing his tall, lean figure in jeans and a t-shirt, auburn curls all a mess. His blue-green eyes were flooded with worry and as much as his lips seemed to smile, the rest of his body seemed less than enthusiastic.

“Can I come in?” He asks sweetly, smiling and leaning against the door frame.

“'Course,” Ivy grins in reply, beckoning him in. If it weren't for Charles, Ivy would be completely alone. She hadn't told anyone but him about the cancer, and she certainly didn't plan on telling anyone else. Definitely not Barbara, or Karen, or Beverly, or Violet, or her aunt Mattie Fae. She considered telling her uncle Charlie, but decided against it. Charlie would tell Mattie Fae and Mattie Fae would tell Violet. And once Violet had heard something, everyone would immediately be told. Ivy's mother and aunt were the biggest gossips around.

Charles walks carefully into the room, as if he might shake the ground and injure her, and gently lowesd himself onto her bed. He sits far away from her and winces as his body sinks into the mattress. He is overly cautious and ridiculously worried for her, but Ivy finds it kind of adorable.

“How ya feeling?” Charles enquires compassionately, corners of his lips turned up.

“Tired,” Ivy sighs. She has truly never felt this exhausted in her life, and that was saying something, considering that she still looks after Violet and Beverly. And they are _exhausting._

Charles nods sympathetically. “I'm gonna go and watch some TV. I'll let you get your sleep. Just holler if you need me.”

Ivy smiles and nods half-heartedly. She knows she won't be hollering any time soon. The moment he leaves, she falls straight to sleep.

 

The first night goes well because Ivy's so exhausted, but after spending yet another day lying around, she finds herself unable to sleep when the time comes. She's restless, turning in bed, staring at the walls, eyes adjusted to the darkness. She can hear Charles snoring softly from the living room, and she doesn't want to wake him.

She waits for nearly an hour, trying to relax herself, even putting on the TV as background noise, but sleep evades her. She's one hundred percent awake. _Screw it,_ she thinks, making a quick decision. She knows Charles would do anything to help her, so she calls out his name.

There's a big crash from the living room as he scrambles off the couch and rushes into Ivy's bedroom. He slams the door open, eyes full of sleep but alert, hair completely messy.

“Ivy? What's wrong?” He pants, furrowing his eyebrows.

Ivy tries not to chuckle and says, “Sorry to scare you. I just can't sleep is all.”

“Oh,” he breathes, relief flooding his features. He pads across the room and sits down on the bed. Ivy's painfully aware of his hand so close to her blanket-encased leg. “Well I dunno what I can do to help you...”

“What do you normally do, when you can't sleep?”

Charles looks miffed. “I always fall asleep straight away,” he says, frowning, “but sometimes when I'm sick I'd go for a hot bath. That puts _anyone_ right to sleep,” he announces, full of conviction.

Ivy can't help but smile at his tone and she puts her hand on top of his. “Help me to bathroom?”

“Sure,” he says, jumping off the bed and walking around. “But you can't have a bath yet, not for at least six weeks. Doctor's orders. How 'bout a hot shower instead?”

Ivy bites her lip. “I don't know if I can stand that long.”

“Don't worry,” Charles offers immediately. “I'll do all the work. Come on.” He offers her a hand and she takes it, getting to her feet and walking gingerly to her bathroom, trying not to aggravate her wound too much. It hurts a bit as she moves.

They make it to the bathroom together and Charles starts to run the shower, turning respectfully away as Ivy undresses herself. When it comes time for him to help her into the tub, she tries to cover herself, but he looks away the whole time as it is. _He's a real gentlemen. That, and it might be a bit weird for him to see his cousin naked,_ Ivy reprimands herself silently. She sits down in the tub and he takes the shower head off the hook, running a gentle stream of water onto her hair and down her back, careful to avoid the incision. Her muscles relax almost instantly as the water flows over her and she slowly warms up again.

Charles grabs a bottle of shampoo from the shower shelf, flips open the cap, and sniffs it, smiling guiltily. Then he pours a glob on his hand and starts to massage the shampoo into Ivy's scalp. She relaxes into his touch, almost nudging her head back against his hands to get closer. Her eyes close, and she doesn't realize Charles has stopped immediately.

Ivy opens her eyes and finds herself looking right into Charles's. He looks almost completely serious, save for a slight smile and an intense emotion in his eyes that Ivy can't quite name. She breathes in sharply and involuntarily, her gaze locked on his by some indeterminable gravity that refused to relent, drawing every bit of Ivy towards Charles.

It seems perfectly natural, almost an expected progression of events, when Charles's eyes flutter closed and he leans in, all auburn curls and cupid's bow lips, and his lips brush against hers. It's hardly even a kiss, really. He's hesitant and he barely touches her, as though he doesn't want to be too forceful. Ivy lingers for too long, and after the moment passes Charles pulls back and continues to massage shampoo into her scalp, cheeks flushed and eyes downcast.

 

Another week passes, and Ivy spends most of it in her townhouse. Charles doesn't have a job, and even though he might normally go out and look for one, instead he spends the day with Ivy. They play video games, he sings songs he's written for her, and they watch a _ton_ of movies. Nothing... intimate happens, not since the strange moment in the bath, but nothing changes between them. Ivy still feels comfortable with him, resting her head on his shoulder, snuggling against him on the couch, despite the bath thing. She knows she should feel uncomfortable or awkward about it, considering he's her _cousin_ after all, but she doesn't. She feels the most awkward about _not_ feeling awkward about it. But Ivy forces it out of her mind. Over-thinking will ruin their time together, and she's decided to just enjoy it. What's the harm?

One night, they fall asleep together watching TV. Charles falls asleep first, exhausted, eyes shut and snoring softly before Ivy could blink. Their fingers were tangled together loosely, Charles's head almost on her lap, his warmth and body heat against her skin. When she wakes up in the morning, he's still asleep, and Ivy's never seen anyone, ever, look lovelier. 

She and Charles have always been close, although she wouldn't have considered him her best friend until a year or so ago. It was the kind of closeness, the sort of kinship generated by being an outsider. Neither ever felt good enough, or like they belonged. Always lingering on the edge of the social scene. As time wore on and they got older, Ivy began to stick up for Charles, especially against Mattie Fae. She knew what it felt like to be treated like crap, having lots of first-hand experience herself, and she didn't want Charles to feel that way. They started to have conversations, alone and sitting away, not talking to anyone else, sympathy and support. They understood each other. Ivy talked about teaching and Charles listened. No one else ever had.

Ivy was the first person that he had ever truly opened up to. He'd never told anyone to what extent he felt bad about himself, considered himself a loser, until he told Ivy. She sympathized. She had never felt that she was good enough for Violet. He was the kindest, bravest, gentlest, most loving person she had ever met. It was astounding, really, that he had turned out so good, having Mattie Fae as a mother. Charles had chuckled when Ivy told him that, and said the same thing about her. Charles thought Ivy was the least affected by Violet. Barb was too much like her, and Karen... well, Karen was another story entirely.

 

It has been four weeks since her surgery. Ivy sits on her couch, legs stretched out, blissed out on painkillers, just enjoying the silence and half-reading a book. Charles stands over by the old record player that Beverly had given her, looking through Ivy's records. She doesn't have many, but he slips one onto the table and puts the needle down. A scratchy song begins to play, a soft and haunting melody, and Charles starts to sway in tune to the music, a bit awkwardly. He turns around and dances his way over to Ivy, holding a hand out to her and beckoning her to stand up.

Ivy contemplates for a moment, and then decides, _screw it,_ and takes his hand, struggling to her feet with a bit of pain in her abdomen. Charles weaves the long fingers of one hand between hers and wraps the other arm loosely around her waist, pulling her close and burying his face in her, moving together. Her body is pressed so close against his that she imagines she can feel every part of him, every nerve and synapse, completely connected to her. She feels a bit more complete with him so close. To Ivy, Charles is comfort. Charles is home.

They continue to dance even when the song ends, and somehow, the silence is louder than the music was.


	2. Brave

Charles walks down the sidewalk, practically baking in the heat, hair a sweaty mop on his head and face completely red. Ivy's at home, taking a nap, and Charles has decided to go for a walk around the neighbourhood. It's shockingly hot, even for June in Oklahoma, but Charles doesn't mind. Even with heavy, sweet, sticky heat crowding his brain, he feels clearer just from breathing in fresh air. It's been great and all, being in the flat with Ivy, but Charles does love to get outside. Today he's having such a good day that he doesn't even look for “hiring” signs in shop windows.

Charles stops and buys himself a bottled water that sweats cold drops profusely, the kind that Mattie Fae would patronize him for buying. _Bottled water? Whatcha need_ that _for? Are ya meetin' with the queen_? She was ridiculous, of course, but it still got to Charles. It always did.

Charles stops on a park bench hidden beneath some shady trees and shuts his eyes, trying to relax all of his muscles individually and clear his mind. He's been on edge for a while for no apparent reason, and he was even considering trying meditation, but he'd feel silly doing it. He does his best to make his mind go blank, to push all thoughts away and just enjoy the shade of the trees and the cold water against his lips. He breathes slowly, in through the nose out through the mouth deep breaths. He's calm, he's clear, he's relaxed, and that's when her face floats across his vision. His eyelids seem to be tattooed with her, her smell (Dove soap and mint toothpaste), her fingertips (brushing lightly against his skin), her hair (getting wavy when she doesn't straighten it), the way she leans closer to him on the couch and laughs at his lame jokes. She always there, lingering around him and in his head, drawing him to her.

Charles craves proximity, but he doesn't want to get to close. He craves to lean in and close the gap between them whenever there is one, to touch her all the time, to touch her everywhere at once. But he won't, because he wants to be there for her. If he tries to take things any further, she might be disgusted, and he might lose his best friend.

That being said, Charles can hardly deny what has happened in the past few weeks; especially the kiss in the bath tub. That was a little more than cousinly love, no denying that, but Charles still has his doubts. Maybe Ivy regrets it, and she wants to pretend it didn't happen. Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing and all she sees in their future is more best-friendship. The thought makes his heart ache. He never thought it would be harder to be around someone you love but not _with_ them than to not be with them at all.

 _Someone you love._ Charles inhales sharply. This is the first time he's ever admitted it to himself, even in his mind, that he loves Ivy. No, he doesn't love Ivy, he's in love with Ivy. His _cousin._ His goddamned cousin. Oh, hell. What would Mattie Fae say? _What would Charlie say_? He'd be so disappointed. Charles, a loser again. Couldn't even get his cousin to love him back. Failed with every girl that wasn't related to him and had to switch gears, something like that. Why did it have to be so difficult? If only they weren't related at all, and then Charles could make his move without the fear of scaring her away.

Charles doesn't care that she's his cousin. He _loves_ her. He wants to spend the rest of his life with his arms wrapped around her, smelling her hair, seeing her wearing his t-shirts, making sure she never feels sad or alone again. He's felt that way, and he doesn't want Ivy to.

Charles takes a big gulp of water and swallows it down in one go, opens his eyes, looks around at the people in the park. A teenage girl sits on a bench with a book on her lap, reading and sipping coffee and looking exhausted. A little boy totters on his new bike, riding it for the first time without training wheels to the encouragement of his parents. A middle-aged couple sit on the grass next to superhero backpacks and Tupperware containers and look around frantically for their kids. Charles finds it fascinating that each of these people is living their own life, dealing with secrets and repercussions and love and all sorts of inner turmoil. It seems impossible that anyone could be caught up in something or thinking of someone who isn't Ivy, worrying about things that don't have to do with Mattie Fae or Charlie or Violet or finding a job or being in love with your cousin.

 

Charles had told his parents that he was going to look after a friend after their surgery, a male friend from the shoe store he used to work at, to make sure they didn't get suspicious of his whereabouts. Ivy didn't want anyone to find out, didn't want anyone to have another reason to pity her.

But he'll have to stop by today, or he'll be in real trouble. There had been phone calls of course, but Mattie Fae had been bitching incessantly about him never coming to see her. _Funny, because a month ago she had been bothering him about leaving._ Charles is going to take a bus home, because he doesn't like to drive when he doesn't have to. He isn't the best driver and he has trouble handling middle fingers and out-the-window shouts.

Charles waits at the bus stop nearest the park and ditches his empty water bottle into a recycling bin. The bus shows up perfectly on time, and it's almost completely empty. There are only a few people around, college students and homeless people, so he takes a seat near the front and busies himself with people-watching out the window. The bus takes him three stops to the house and he gets off, trying to flatten his hair and straighten out his sweat-soaked clothes before ringing the doorbell. Luckily, Charlie answers.

“Charles!” Charlie smiles, and lets his son in.

“Hi, Dad,” Charles drawls. “Thought I'd drop by for a visit. Gotta pick up some clothes, too. Think I'm gonna be at my friend's house for a little longer.”

“Sure,” Charlie nods encouragingly. He is just happy to see Charles getting out of the house. “Mattie Fae, your son's here,” Charlie shouts in the direction of the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Mattie Fae sits fanning herself and writing a letter. She looks up when Charles walks in. “Little Charles, nice of you to finally join us,” she says sarcastically. “Thought you'd left forever!”

“I've been gone four weeks, Ma,” Charles points out. “And I'm gonna be gone for another month or so.”

“Another month? What the hell are you _doin'_ over there?” Mattie Fae laughs harshly.

“Helping my friend recover, I told you, Ma. He's got another while to go before he can go back to work.”

“You shouldn't be spending all that time over there, Little Charles, it's indecent. Don't he have a girlfriend who can look after him?”

“No, Ma,” Charles sighs. They'd had this conversation before.

“Have you turned gay?” Mattie Fae puts her head in her hands. “I always knew this would happen if you didn't get a girlfriend!”

“I'm not gay,” Charles states, sitting down at the table across from his mother. “He don't got no one to help him out, I'm his only friend.”

Mattie Fae shakes her head imperceptibly at Charlie. “You've been away for a month and this is the first time you've come and see me, Little Charles. Why don't you come visit more often, you don't wanna see your Ma?” she asks in an accusatory tone.

“'Course I do, Mama, I've just been busy.”

“How busy could you be? You don't even have a job, for Christ's sakes!”

Charles looks down and fiddles with his hands. “I've been looking, Ma, I promise. Just it's awful hard to find work around here these days.”

“No one else seems to have a problem 'finding work' around here! Look at your cousin Ivy, she's been working at the college and still finds time to go and see _her_ mother,” Mattie Fae reprimands.

“I'm sorry, Ma,” Charles's voice quivers. He doesn't mean to upset his mother all the time, because upsetting his mother only upset his father, and then everyone was upset at Charles for being such a disappointment. Charles doesn't mean to disappoint everyone, or be unemployed or living at home or stupid or useless. He didn't mean to turn out this way. All he wants is to make his parents proud.

Mattie Fae just huffs a dramatic sigh. “Forget about it, Little Charles, you aren't ever gonna change and I gotta put up with that. Charlie, how did we raise our boy to be such a _disappointment?”_

Charlie presses his lips together and says in a quiet voice, “don't, Mattie Fae.”

“I'm gonna go home, Ma,” Charles says finally. “My friend's gonna need my help.”

“Already? I just can't _believe_ you, Little Charles. How you upset me! No, don't look like that, just go, I know you don't wanna be here with your old mother.”

“Now, Mattie Fae, you know that ain't fair, Charlie protested quietly.

Charles, suddenly, had had enough, and he stood up and put his jacket on. “I gotta go, really, he needs me,” he excused himself feebly.

“Charles, please, stay,” Charlie insisted weakly, threading his hands through his hair, his face going red.

“I can't, Dad, I really gotta go. Bye,” Charles replied, turning and walking out of the kitchen. For the first time in his memory, he didn't even say a polite arbitrary goodbye to his parents. And somehow, he didn't feel guilty about it. Not one bit.

 

Charles was still in a bad mood by the time the bus took him back to Ivy's. He loved his parents, truly, but it was just so hard sometimes, when nobody appreciates you. Thanks for nothing.

Ivy, not unusually, can tell that Charles is feeling bad (about himself or about something else, she doesn't know). He's quiet and withdrawn when he walks into the apartment, and his voice breaks when he asks her if she needs anything. She can see it plain as day on his face, that he's hurting. That something happened while he was out.

“Charles, what's wrong?” Ivy asked, concerned, taking his hand and tugging him down onto the couch. He put his head in his hands and sighed. His eyes were red and wet.

“Don't you worry 'bout me, Ivy,” Charles said finally, straightening and mustering up a smile.

“Can't do that,” Ivy murmured, leaning close to him. He could smell her shampoo and see each of her freckles in detail. She wasn't wearing makeup (she never wore makeup), but she didn't need it. Her eyes were intoxicating on their own. “I always worry about you.”

Charles looked confused. “Why?” he blurted out, instantly regretting the question. Of course, she worried about him, she was his cousin, they were friends, they were close. That's what friends are for. What _family_ is for.

“Because...” Ivy bit her lip and looked down for one fleeting second. Her eyes quickly returned to him. “Because you're all I have, Charles. You're my lifeline. You're my whole world.” She blushes instantly and looks down.

Charles laughs,which stuns himself. He doesn't laugh because what she said is funny, he laughs because he's surprised. He's surprised that he got so damn _lucky._ “I adore you,” he says out of the blue, before even thinking about it. It's true, though. How he feels about her... it's more than love. He adores her, he's smitten, he's crazy about her. Love seems like too common a word to express how he feels about Ivy Weston.

Ivy looks up, they make eye contact, and before Charles can process what's happening, they're kissing. Her lips are soft but firm and unyielding, and she tastes faintly sweet and fresh and distinctly _her._ Ivy's hair feels so good in his hands and her skin on his sends tingles across his body. He's never wanted anything more in his life and he feels like he simply can't get close enough to her. It's an intense, passionate, needy, insistent hunger.

“Guess you're not so little anymore,” Ivy chuckled into his skin.

“Guess not,” Charles conceded, grinning.

 


End file.
